The sound of clattering hooves, whinnying horses, and the clamour of raised voices floated up from outside and broke the gentle mood and silence of the bedroom.

‘What on earth is that dreadful fuss? All that shouting?’ Adele cried, her eyes flaring with surprise, as the voices grew more voluble and angry in tone.

Emma shook her head, equally mystified. She put down the gown she was still working on and ran to the window. She parted the curtains and looked down into the courtyard below.

‘It’s the children, ma’am,’ she said quietly, biting her lip, and turning back to face Mrs Fairley. ‘It’s Master Gerald. He’s shouting and bawling at Master Edwin summat terrible.’ Emma hesitated, almost afraid to go on. Adele looked at her expectantly. Emma gulped. ‘Mrs Fairley, I think he’s crying, poor Master Edwin is.’

‘Edwin!’ shrieked Adele, and she pushed aside the tray so vigorously Emma thought there would be an accident. Adele leapt out of the bed and flew across the room like a Valkyrie in flight, her hair streaming down her back. She moved with such unaccustomed velocity, Emma stepped aside hurriedly when Adele reached the window and violently jerked the white lace curtains apart and looked out. The scene being enacted below made Adele’s throat tighten and her face took on a ghastly pallor.

The two boys were still mounted, after their ride, and Gerald was berating Edwin, his blubbery face swollen and red with temper. Edwin, in spite of his tears, was valiantly trying to defend himself against this verbal onslaught. Adele threw open the window with great force, about to intervene. At this precise moment, Gerald moved his horse closer to Edwin’s, and Adele cringed, hardly daring to breathe. She watched Gerald deliberately kick his booted foot into the lower rib cage of Russet Dawn, Edwin’s chestnut stallion. As the boot struck, the startled horse reared up on its hind legs, crazed and afraid, its nostrils flaring as it leapt forward violently. Edwin would have been thrown on to the rough cobblestones if he had not been an excellent equestrian like his father. He kept his head, and consequently his seat, and with superb horsemanship brought Russet Dawn under control.

Adele was so horrified, so sickened, so angered by this malicious act, her whole body began to shake and for a moment her throat was constricted. Long ago Adele had admitted to herself she was actually afraid of Gerald. He was a bully. But now her terrible rage and her concern for Edwin enabled her to overcome this inherent and often paralysing fear.

The courtyard was suddenly deathly quiet. Gerald was actually grinning. Edwin was wiping his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand. Adele seized the moment. She leaned out of the window and cried in an uncommonly harsh tone, ‘What is the meaning of this commotion, Gerald? What is this dreadful altercation all about? You are behaving in the most deplorable manner, which I will not tolerate.’

Gerald looked up and blinked, taken aback at his mother’s unanticipated appearance at the window, and also by the firmness of her tone. Gerald had always despised his mother, even as a little boy. He thought her foolish and vain, and he sniggered at her behind her back.

Now he moved restlessly in the saddle and cleared his throat. ‘It’s nothing of any importance, Mother. Your precious darling is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, even though it is a big baby, thanks to your pampering,’ he said with rude disdain. ‘Go back to bed, Mother. We don’t want you interfering with us, or as an arbitrator, for that matter.’

‘How dare you speak to me with such insolence,’ exclaimed Adele with enormous coldness, shocked at Gerald’s audacity. ‘I want, no demand, an explanation about this matter or you will answer to your father. Come to the library at once. And remove your filthy riding boots before doing so!’

Gerald was so flabbergasted at this extraordinary reversal in his mother’s mien, which was normally meek and abstracted, he gaped at her openmouthed, his usual scornful retorts unuttered. Edwin was not at all surprised, but he was afraid for his mother, and a worried look flashed across his sensitive face.

‘But there’s nothi-’ Gerald began.

‘At once, I said!’ Adele snapped, and closed the window in his face with a loud bang, a grim expression ringing her mouth. Then she began to tremble, almost convulsively, although this was more from anger than any other emotion. She clutched the green silk draperies to steady herself.

Emma moved closer to her and took her arm. ‘Oh, Mrs Fairley, don’t upset yerself so. Please. Remember the dinner. Yer must keep yerself calm for tonight. Pay no mind ter Master Gerald, Mrs Fairley. Yer knows what boys are like, always bickering and squabbling amongst ‘emselves.’

Indeed I do know what boys are like, especially that horrid little monster, Adele thought, but said, rather shakily, ‘Yes, Emma, you are right to some extent. But occasionally children must be chastised when they have misbehaved, and taught the difference between right and wrong. Now, where is my dressing gown?’

‘It’s here, ma’am,’ said Emma, picking up the purple velvet robe faced and trimmed with pink satin that matched the nightgown, which was lying across the chair in front of the dressing table. ‘And here are yer slippers,’ she went on, reaching for the purple velvet mules decorated with pink osprey feathers. She took them to Adele.

‘Thank you. Where is the Squire?’ asked Adele as she struggled hurriedly into her dressing gown and slipped her feet into the mules.

‘He went ter Leeds, Mrs Fairley. And I knows he won’t be back till six. I heard him telling Murgatroyd that,’ said Emma.

‘I see. Where is Mrs Wainright? Perhaps you can find her, Emma, and ask her to join me in the library,’ said Adele.

‘She’s not here either, ma’am. She went to the village ter see the Reverend Martin about summat to do with the church,’ Emma explained, wondering how Mrs Fairley would cope with Gerald alone. He could be a real devil when he wanted, and mean. She knew that only too well.

Adele sighed heavily and looked at Emma, but made no comment, her silvery eyes thoughtful. Resolutely she pushed aside the panic that was beginning to take hold of her. For once in her life it seemed she would have to deal with an unpleasant situation on her own. She had resolved earlier to assert herself in the household, and now the opportunity had apparently presented itself. However difficult it might prove to be, she must handle it at all costs. That despicable little fiend is not going to get away with this as easily as he imagined, she decided. She took several deep breaths and then looked at herself in the ornate Venetian mirror on the dressing table. She wound her hair into a chignon and secured it with several tortoiseshell combs. Satisfied with her appearance, she threw her shoulders back and moved across the room with sureness, coldly imperious in her bearing.

But she faltered at the door and looked back at the speechless Emma, who was astonished at this quite phenomenal show of strength.

‘Perhaps you had better accompany me to the library, Emma,’ said Adele softly. Though her heart was beating with great rapidity and she felt physically weak, her steely determination to confront Gerald was intact. Nevertheless, she believed Emma’s reassuring presence would bolster her courage even more.

‘Yes, Mrs Fairley, ma’am, course I’ll come with yer,’ said Emma, vastly relieved that she had been asked. If there was trouble she could always run for Murgatroyd. He might be a tyrant downstairs in the kitchen, but he was devoted to Mrs Fairley.